


Knight Errant

by Malachite_Knightess



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Collars, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Kink, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Canon, d/s verse, dom!dorothea, dom!edelgard, oh yeah baby we're doing it now, sub!ingrid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24340957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malachite_Knightess/pseuds/Malachite_Knightess
Summary: Edelgard and Dorothea don't have a submissive. That is, until Dorothea comes home from an outing, and brings with her one Ingrid Brandl Galatea, who no longer has a liege lord, and still doesn't have a dominant.
Relationships: Background Ferdinand von Aegir/Bernadetta von Varley, Background Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, Edelgard von Hresvelg/Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62
Collections: DS-Verse FE3H Fics





	1. capture

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [won't go down easy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23020399) by [dustofwarfare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustofwarfare/pseuds/dustofwarfare). 



> this is a verse in which everyone is biologically submissive or dominant. if you're not into that, then by all means, click away. it's based on and inspired by dustofwarfare and ohmyfae's Imperative series, which i wanted to shoutout because oh my god. what a fucking good bunch of writing.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy, and as always, comments and kudos are extremely appreciated, and keep me encouraged to keep writing!

Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg expected many things from her wife. Dorothea was a remarkable songstress, a woman of incredible determination, who’d put up with leagues of disgusting expectations from scores of men and women alike that wanted her to submit for her livelihood. Dorothea had spent her life turning away people that wanted her, people that could have helped her, but weren’t right for her. Edelgard respected the strength in that. As a dominant, Edelgard had always been told that her tendencies were unsuited for her. She was honestly, sick of hearing it, and it was yet another reason to overthrow the Church and their outdated ideals. And here she was, sitting on her throne and listening to Hubert and Ferdinand squabble with each other, and wishing her wife was home. Peace was good, for obvious reasons, and she had definitely earned it, but it was frustrating in different ways, too. Taking over the whole continent meant  _ managing _ each and every territory in Fodlan, and that was… complicated. Especially when there were still dissenters, albeit few. Most people were simply tired of war, and had submitted to Edelgard’s rule or left the newly united country, but others were frustrated enough with the rapid pace of change that they spoke out about it. Flames, sometimes she wished she could just snap her fingers and-

“Your majesty, Lady Dorothea is arriving. She wants to see you in the entrance hall.” A messenger spoke to her, which was impressive, given that he was clearly a submissive, his black and red collar signalling his service to Adrestia- no, the United Nation of Fodlan. She sighed, only letting a little bit of her dominance leak into her voice.   
  


“Very well. I thank you for your message. You are dismissed.” Her tone was firm enough that the man spun on his heel and left posthaste. Edelgard stood from her throne, walking towards the large double doors that were typically closed, these days. 

Dorothea was a dominant as well, but their relationship worked for each other. Edelgard certainly didn’t hate the way Dorothea showered affection and praise on her when she touched her just the way she liked, and she knew Dorothea was fond of the way Edelgard would take control of the situation each and every time they were together. Well. Not every time, but still. It satisfied an urge that was instinctive to her, but it wasn’t nearly enough to quell it for too long. Occasionally, she and Dorothea would find a submissive to fool around with, and take out their frustrations on. It was satisfying, to share with Dorothea, but each of them were always far too eager, far too pliant. They were more concerned with pleasing Her Majesty than enjoying themselves. And honestly, that satisfied Edelgard in a different way, but it wasn’t always what she wanted. 

She doesn’t give a second thought to Hubert slipping into her shadow, as he always did, and is surprised to find Ferdinand isn’t trailing after them like an afterthought. 

“Hubert, where is my Prime Minister?” 

“Your Majesty, he has other matters to attend to at the moment. Something about Count Varley’s attempt to put new policies in place without seeing them go through your approval, first. He’s on his way to meet with Bernadetta about it now.”

“I see.” Ferdinand was dominant enough to not always tell Edelgard where he was going or what he was doing, which annoyed her to no end. She supposed it was a good thing for him to have some agency, but she liked knowing what her collareds were doing. Thank goodness for Hubert, who managed to listen to his endless prattling and pluck his plans from it as though it were a needle from a haystack.

Edelgard hummed, running a hand over her crown, a much more demure thing than the horns she had worn throughout the war. It was a simple circlet of gold, topped with rubies and diamonds. Edelgard wore her hair back, in a braid lovingly taught to her by her wife. It let her look regal, but was much less time consuming. 

She stepped into the entrance hall, and stopped in her tracks as her eyes registered the sight before her. 

“Hello, darling.” Dorothea chirped. “I’ve brought you a little gift.”

In battered armor, her hands crossed at the small of her back, blood dripping from a cut across her cheek, Ingrid Brandl Galatea glared daggers at the Emperor of Fodlan.   
  


Edelgard narrowed her eyes at Dorothea.

“You’ve brought me a submissive that fought against us in the war, that clearly wants nothing more than to kill me.” Her eyes flit to Ingrid, and to her credit, she matches Edelgard’s gaze, though her hands don’t move from her back.

“No. Well, yes, actually, but Ingrid is more than that. She’s an experienced fighter, a knight with no liege, a former noble, and one who has intensive knowledge of Galatea territory. I’m sure you could find some use for her. You’re clever like that.” Dorothea beams at her, putting a hand on Ingrid’s shoulder. Ingrid’s knees twitch, but don’t buckle. Dorothea gestures a little with her other hand. “Plus, she’s got spunk. Look at how hard she’s trying not to kneel. You know how hard it is for submissives to resist me.” Dorothea’s hand tightens on Ingrid’s shoulder, and for a moment, Edelgard thinks the blonde might topple over, but she grits her teeth and manages to stay standing.

Edelgard sighs. She loves ‘Thea, she really, really does. But she swears, for all her cleverness and ability to gather information and direct people, she really has a knack for making trouble for Edelgard sometimes. She supposes Dorothea is the only one she’d tolerate that from in the first place, but still. Edelgard steps forward to Ingrid, reaching up a hand to brush across the cut on her cheek. Ingrid scowls, flinching out of Edelgard’s reach.

“Don’t touch me.” She rasps. Her voice is a touch lower than Edelgard remembers it being. She also looks a bit more muscled than when they’d encountered one another at Arianrhod, a testament to her keeping active even with the war’s end.

“I will do as I please.” Edelgard says, but she doesn’t actually reach out to touch her again. She turns her head. “Hubert. Arrange for a room to be set aside for her. One with a private bath. Post a pair of guards at the door, but allow her some privacy, and a change of clothes.” Edelgard spins on her heel as Hubert bows, and she gestures for Dorothea to follow. She does, and once they’ve returned to the privacy of the throne room, she glares at Dorothea.

Edelgard knows full well that Dorothea is immune to her stares, but that doesn’t stop her from trying it. 

“Edie, let me explain. I was snooping around old Faerghan territories, and I found a little hamlet deep in Galatea. She’d gathered scores of refugees, helped build them shelters and was bringing them food. It was honestly impressive. But she can be of better use than just building temporary shelters! She’s got the information on Galatea to set up actual homes, help manage villages, set up farming grounds, the whole works. Instead of sixty, she could be helping six-thousand.”

Edelgard pinches the bridge of her nose.

“I understand, but that doesn’t change the fact that we literally killed one of her childhood friends.” Dorothea steps forward, putting a hand on Edelgard’s cheek. Her skin is warm, and the blooming scars on her hands from using her magic too much are so familiar to Edelgard that they bring her some sense of comfort.

“My love. You know as well as I do that Dimitri was long gone. You did what you had to.” Edelgard puts her own hand over Dorothea’s, smiling and bringing it to her lips to press gentle kisses to her knuckles.

“I know.” Flames, she loves Dorothea. She always knew just what to say, just what to do to put Edelgard at ease. She’d been a wonderful empress, and an even better wife. Edelgard wouldn’t trade her for the world.

“Plus… I thought you might want a new plaything. I know I do.” And there it was. Edelgard groaned.   
  


“You know as well as I do that it’s going to be a lot of work to get her to submit to either of us, right?”

“Edie, we literally conquered and unified Fodlan. We drove out Those Who Slither In The Dark in a matter of weeks. We can do anything.”

Dorothea kisses her, as she often does when she’s trying to get Edelgard to do something for her. She could just ask, she knows that, but Dorothea seems to find it much more entertaining to push her buttons and tease her until she’s worked up enough to take it out on whatever Dorothea wants done.

“It’ll be fun! We can do like, a good guard, bad guard thing. I think she’s a little softer for me since, you know, you’re the whole Emperor and whatnot.” Dorothea is far too excited about this for Edelgard’s liking, but she relents, nonetheless. 

“Very well. It should serve for… at least a little bit of fun.” Who was she kidding? She liked a challenge. Edelgard took over the continent, just because she was sick of waiting for change to happen on its own. There might have been easier ways, but she was an impatient woman. Edelgard pressed another quick kiss to Dorothea’s lips, feeling her smile. “I’ll come find you in a moment, darling. Feel free to choose whatever dinner you wish.”

“You’ve got it.’ Dorothea skips off, humming a little tune to herself. The sight makes Edelgard smile, and she leaves, headed to the chamber where Ingrid was being kept.

* * *

  
  


Ingrid was already having a rotten day  _ before _ she ran into the woman she used to crush on at the academy. The refugees that she was protecting were getting antsy. She’d moved them three times in the last week now, after finding signs that they were being followed, to no avail. She tried being patient with them, explaining that she could not, in fact, just take them to a nearby village and set them up in an inn. Goddess, people’s opinions of nobles really were predictable. Not that she was much of a noble anymore.

She’d been out hunting when they’d found her, with zero luck at all. Ingrid was never much good with a bow, so she’d set up several traps in various locations near the campsite, and was stealing through the woods when she heard a large group of people marching. She had hid behind some large brush, wanting to get a look at who it was, before she smelled ozone and was nearly run through with Dorothea’s levin sword. She’d stepped aside just in time to receive only a small scratch, and the cut ached with the telltale prickling feeling of magic sinking into her skin. She’d pulled a knife from her belt, whirling at Dorothea, who ducked under her blow and slammed the pommel of her weapon into Ingrid’s gut. Ingrid had nearly keeled over, and when the ringing in her ears cleared, she heard the loud, heavy footsteps of dozens of infantrymen. She was surrounded.

“Ingrid, dear.” Dorothea had drawled, her eyes narrowing. “Hands behind your back. Now.” Her voice had rippled through Ingrid like a shockwave. After not having been put under in so long, it was all she could do simply to remain standing. She cursed, obeying and averting her gaze. Dorothea had happily turned her back on her, delivering orders to her battalion, and Ingrid briefly considered attacking her for a moment, but something in her gave up. She’d hurt her former friends enough for one lifetime.

At the moment, Ingrid was still having a rotten day, though, frankly, it was taking a turn for the better. She was spread out in the private bath that had been set aside for her, letting the heat of the water drive away some of her aches and soreness. She washed her hair out, relishing the feeling of running her fingers through her scalp. Goddess, she missed baths. She’d washed out the cut on her face, which was fairly shallow, but was still probably going to scar, with her luck, when she heard a knock on the door to the bath, followed by an unfamiliar voice. 

“There’s a change of clothes waiting for you on the bed, Miss Galatea.” Judging by their tone, they were probably a dominant, but not one she’d ever met. She heard their footsteps as they walked off, and took them as an opportunity to rise from the bathtub, wrapping a towel across her body before tentatively peeking out through the crack of the door. It felt childish, honestly, hiding behind the door, but she’d honestly rather not risk being naked in front of Dorothea, or worse,  _ Edelgard _ , right now.

Ingrid stepped out into the room, ignoring the anticipation that flooded her veins. Nobody was here. She was fine. The clothes set aside for her were simple, a set of clean smallclothes, comfortable black trousers, and a green doublet. She pulled the clothes on, and was only slightly annoyed at the fact that they fit her well. She admired herself in the mirror, brushing a hand over the back of her head, where her hair hung loose. It was getting a little long, for her tastes, and she would need to cut it soon.

There was a knock on the door, more out of courtesy than anything else, and then Edelgard stepped through, lavender eyes flicking up and down Ingrid’s form. She gave her a small, confident smile, gesturing to the table tucked against one of the walls. 

“Have a seat. We’ve much to talk about.” It wasn’t a request, by any means. Ingrid huffed, sitting down. She told herself it was just because she wanted to, and  _ not _ because Edelgard had told her to. Edelgard took a seat across from her, folding her hands delicately and placing her chin atop them.

“I’m told you were protecting a group of refugees. Tell me, is that correct?” Ingrid scowled. She didn’t really want to talk to the woman that killed her childhood friend. Even if he had let himself be haunted by his ghosts. Even if he had done some questionable things in the name of killing Edelgard. Even if she had heard about some of the things he’d made Felix do. Dimitri was still her king, her liege, her friend, and she had every right to be pissed off at the monster that killed him. She’d incited a war, and for what? Change was necessary, but there were better ways to go about it than carving a bloody swathe through the country.

Edelgard looked none too pleased about Ingrid’s silence.

“I understand that you’re angry at me. But I’m not particularly concerned about that. You were helping people who needed it, who asked for it. I want to employ you to do the same thing, but on a larger scale. You’re skilled, Ingrid. And this position very well could go to someone else, but I believe you can be useful to me.”

Useful. Goddess, what a joke that was. Ingrid really hated that word. Was she useful, when her father had tried to pawn her off to a hundred different suitors to secure a livelihood that wouldn’t last? Was she useful, when she couldn’t protect Arianrhod and fled the battlefield like a coward? Was she useful, when she heard Dimitri was marching to intercept Edelgard’s army, and instead of rushing to his side, gathered what people she could and fled? No. Ingrid wasn’t useful. She was a knight who abandoned her liege lord, who gave up on him. She had sworn herself to Dimitri, had promised to die for him, and now, he was gone. She wasn't useful, she was the opposite.

“Perhaps you’d like something to drink?”

Edelgard snapped her fingers, and the doors opened. A servant, wearing a stark red collar, entered. She held a tray in her hands, and set the table for tea. There were some baked goods set aside as well, with a knife laid openly on the plate to serve oneself. The servant set a cup in front of Ingrid and Edelgard, pouring them both a full cup from the teapot. The familiar scent of chamomile filled Ingrid’s nose, and she hated that Edelgard remembered what her favorite tea was. Edelgard dismissed the servant, folding her hands on the table.

“I know you might hate me. But I hold no grudge against you. You only did what you believed was right. You protected people. That’s something to be proud of.” The praise made Ingrid’s gut churn. She didn’t want it. Not from  _ her _ . 

“I don't want to help  _ you _ .” It’s the first thing Ingrid has said to Edelgard in years. She glares at Edelgard, who simply smiles back, confident as ever. It makes Ingrid want to punch her.

“You won’t be. You’ll be helping the people of your former territory. That’s the whole point.” Edelgard sips her tea, seemingly pleased at the taste. “Drink your tea, Ingrid.”

The pure  _ command _ in Edelgard’s voice makes Ingrid’s hands tremble, but out of spite, she reaches for the bread and knife instead. Then… her hands close around the knife, and she scrambles to her feet, thrusting it at Edelgard’s throat.

Edelgard drops her teacup, causing some of the liquid to spill, and jumps out of her own seat. She sidesteps Ingrid’s stab, grabbing her wrist and twisting it harshly. She thrusts her shoulder against Ingrid’s chest, throwing her over her back and flipping her onto the ground, hands still tightly gripping at her knife hand. Ingrid hisses at the pain, dropping the knife, but Edelgard still doesn’t let go.

“Do you think me a fool, Ingrid?” She steps around her, grabbing a handful of Ingrid’s hair to pull her eyes up to Edelgard’s. Her eyes are a sea of lavender flame, and Ingrid nearly shrinks from her gaze, but the hand in her hair tightens, and she keeps looking. “I want you to remember this moment. I conquered Fodlan. I dismantled the Church. I am bringing peace and reform to this continent. You are a knight with no king. I am giving you mercy, agency, because I am not the monster you think I am. But if you continue to disrespect me, I’ll make you regret it. Understand?”

For the first time, Ingrid nods in response to Edelgard’s question, because she doesn’t trust her voice right now. Edelgard drops her hair, and Ingrid suppresses a whine. Stupid submissive instincts. 

Edelgard steps away, not turning to face Ingrid. “I’ll give you some time to consider whether or not you want to behave. It’s your choice. But one way or another, I’ll show you just what kind of a monster I can be.” And then she’s gone, cloak billowing behind her. The door clicks shut behind her, and Ingrid trembles, ignoring the ache between her thighs.

A day passes, which Ingrid mostly spends pacing around her room or sleeping, when it doesn’t evade her. 

When morning comes, Ingrid awakens to a single knock, and then the door opening. Dorothea steps through, holding a tray of assorted breakfast foods. The sight makes Ingrid’s mouth water, and she’s so distracted by the food that it takes her a moment to realize how much Dorothea has changed since their days at the academy. She seems much more secure now, fuller. Her hands are marked by scarring that looks like lightning, thin white lines that branch across her fingers. She still wears elaborate clothing and jewelry, and today, she’s wearing a pretty, backless black and gold dress. Her arms are encircled by bracelets, and a golden ring set with a ruby gleams on her left ring finger. Dorothea walks to Ingrid, taking a seat beside her on the bed.

“I heard about what happened yesterday.” She says. “You really ought not to get on Edie’s bad side. She’s… something else.” Dorothea plucks a piece of bread from the tray, tearing off a section of it and holding it up to Ingrid. “You must be hungry. Eat.”

The phrasing makes Ingrid’s instincts light up, much to her annoyance. She reaches a hand out for the bread, which Dorothea lightly slaps away, eyes glinting with mischief. The unspoken sentiment comes through clearly: she wants Ingrid to eat from her hand. Ingrid considers her usual act of spite, of disobeying purely to prove she wasn’t so easy, but her stomach pangs with hunger as she catches another whiff of the fresh, warm food. Oh, goddess, fine. She supposes she’d rather eat from Dorothea’s hand than Edelgard’s. Tentatively, Ingrid leans forward, opening her mouth. Dorothea smiles, placing the bread on Ingrid’s tongue. It’s warm, still, probably fresh from the oven, and has just a hint of sweetness to it. Cinnamon, maybe? The taste is better than anything she’s eaten in the last few months, and when Dorothea holds up the next piece for her, she doesn’t hesitate, allowing Dorothea to feed her without putting up a fight.

“Good. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Dorothea coos. The praise warms Ingrid’s chest, and a light flush comes across her cheeks. This wasn’t fair. Dorothea had to know that Ingrid had a soft spot for her. Judging from the glimmer in her eyes, she certainly did, and intended on using it to her advantage. 

“I understand why you fight it.” Dorothea says, continuing to feed her. “But really, it feels nice to let it happen sometimes.” Ingrid grumbles a little bit, eliciting a laugh from Dorothea. “I know. I had so many people begging me to let them be my submissive, back when I was on the streets. I fought and I fought and I fought, because I hated the way I was; I hated that a part of me  _ wanted _ to collar some of them.” The bread is gone, already, and Dorothea switches to a meat, lightly glazed with honey. Ingrid melts into the taste of it, and listens quietly to Dorothea speak. “But when I met Edie, I realized that I didn’t have to fight my nature so hard. She was a dominant, just like me, and being able to make her feel good, to care for her in ways that other people couldn’t, it made me feel so fulfilled. Wouldn’t you like to feel fulfilled, too?”

Ingrid considers this for a moment. She hadn’t… She’d  _ never _ known a dominant that she’d actually let herself be comfortable with. She’d always denied them, pushed them away, because she told herself she wouldn’t let herself be sold off like some sort of prize to keep her family afloat. But even just… this… was nice. Just being fed by Dorothea. It set her at ease, made a quiet warmth settle into her chest, like she was sitting in front of a fire after coming inside from the cold.

“I… Don’t know. I’ve not, really…” Ingrid stumbles over her words. She doesn’t know how to put it.

“Would you like to try a little bit? If you don’t enjoy yourself, I’ll stop. But…” Dorothea raises her hand, and Ingrid flinches just a little. Dorothea places the hand on her cheek, and Ingrid’s breath hitches. She draws her thumb down Ingrid’s cheekbone and onto the column of her throat, and Ingrid suppresses a whine. “You really are such a handsome girl. I almost can’t help myself.” Ingrid nods, her legs trembling. She wants this. She might even need this. It’s been far too long since she had what she needed.

Dorothea sets the tray aside, leaning forward. She kisses Ingrid’s cheek, and her lips are so warm. She trails down, kissing the side of Ingrid’s neck. Her lips are gentle, teasing, and Ingrid grasps at Dorothea’s dress, already feeling floaty and hot. She’s drawn back down to earth when Dorothea sinks her teeth into Ingrid’s neck. The sensation is thrilling, and sends sparks flitting across her skin, down her shoulders and her chest. She groans, and she can’t help the way her chin tilts up. She bares her throat openly, submitting for Dorothea, who practically purrs with excitement. 

She slips her hands under Ingrid’s shirt, and Ingrid murmurs her assent. Dorothea slips the garment up, off over her shoulders and head, and tosses it aside. Her kisses trail down to Ingrid’s collarbone and chest, where she alternates between soft, gentle presses of her lips, and sharp, sudden bites. It keeps Ingrid on edge, enough to make her squirm, and she knows her breathing is getting too fast. Ingrid gasps, and feels Dorothea smile against her skin.

“That’s it. I want to hear you.” Her voice shimmers with energy, and it sends a shudder down Ingrid’s back. Dorothea cups Ingrid’s breasts, kneading at the soft skin there, and brushes her fingers in slow, tantalizing circles around her areolae. Ingrid whimpers, and Dorothea rewards her with a pinch at her nipples, rolling them between her fingers. It sends thrills across her skin, and Ingrid moans, closing her eyes and placing her hands above her head.

“Mmm. You look so pretty like that. Keep your hands there. Don’t move them until I tell you to. Okay, dear?” Ingrid nods, and Dorothea kisses her neck again, sinking her teeth in and raking her nails down Ingrid’s abdomen. She squirms, but her hands don't move, and Dorothea lights up. Her hand trails lower, lower, and finally, presses firmly against Ingrid’s crotch. The pressure makes her breath catch, and when Dorothea rubs slowly up and down, over her trousers, she can’t help but whine aloud. She’s sure the guards outside are going to hear her. The thought is quickly driven from her mind as Dorothea slips the hand beneath her clothes, and the direct contact with her sex makes her mind go hazy. She mewls as Dorothea slips two fingers inside her, slow and sweet. 

“Good. So wet for me already. That’s a good girl.” The praise sends electricity into her thighs, and with the way Dorothea is curling her fingers, she’s not quite sure she’s going to last much longer. Dorothea doesn’t relent, though, and just keeps fucking her with her hand. Ingrid grinds her hips against it, needy and desperate, and she feels it building, then, hot and aching and too much and not enough all at once. 

“P-please, Dorothea, I- Please. Please.” Dorothea raises an eyebrow, slowing her movements. Ingrid nearly sobs.

“Please, what?”

“Please, m-may I,  _ come _ .” She chokes out, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. The sensation is good in a way she can’t quite understand.

“That’s it. Yes, darling, you’ve been so good. Come for me, Ingrid.” Her pace continues, and Dorothea has only barely finished the syllable of ‘yes’ when Ingrid feels her muscles clench. She howls as Dorothea fingers her through it, murmuring quiet praise until Ingrid stills, panting. Dorothea pulls her hand out from beneath Ingrid’s clothes, licking them clean. The sight makes Ingrid shudder, and she would ask for more if she wasn’t sinking into submissive headspace so hard she can hardly think.

“You can move your hands now, sweetheart.” Ingrid doesn’t, but she hums in affirmation so Dorothea knows she heard her. Her eyes flutter shut, and the last thing she hears is Dorothea quietly singing to her, tracing small, gentle circles across Ingrid’s skin.


	2. Admiration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ingrid goes for a walk, and has a difficult conversation. Dinner is served, and then things get out of hand.

“You did  _ what? _ ” Edelgard hissed. Dorothea chuckled in response, lightly slapping at her arm and holding a finger up to her mouth.

“Shhh! She’s sleeping now.” Dorothea is gleaming, her head buzzing with the rush of getting Ingrid to submit to her. “She was so pent up, couldn’t you tell? I just got her to settle a little bit by feeding her breakfast, and talked her into it.” Edelgard huffs, only a little annoyed that it was so easy for Dorothea and so difficult for her. To be fair, she  _ had _ been the instigator of the war that killed her king, but… still.

“So she tries to kill  _ me _ , but you hand her some cinnamon bread, and all of a sudden she bares her throat, just like that?” Dorothea rolls her eyes. “First of all, I didn’t hand it to her, I made her eat directly from my hand. Secondly, you know she’s still grieving. I bet you that deep down, she knows that Dimitri lost himself to his ghosts. She just doesn’t want to admit it, because she lost a friend.”

Edelgard understands that. Dimitri  _ was _ her stepbrother. She wanted nothing more than to just… talk things through with him. She knew he wasn’t fond of the crest system either. And yet… He let Rhea get to him. He let her fill his head with all sorts of ideas of honor, responsibility, that Edelgard was a monster who took everything from her. Edelgard wasn’t happy about the war either, about all the death that came with it. But she knew it was an important change to be made. If there were a better way, she would have taken it. She didn’t want to kill Dimitri. She didn’t want to kill anyone.

“Edie, I can see you drifting into that sad space. Focus, honey.” Dorothea snaps her fingers beneath Edelgard’s nose, which is a little frustrating, but gets her attention well enough. “You already showed her that you’re stronger than her. Now you need to show her that you’re kind, too. Let her get out a little. Help her de-stress. That kind of thing.” Dorothea pats her wife’s cheek, humming a little. 

“Now, how would you like to put that pretty mouth of yours to work? I’m pent up after all that, and I want to ride your face.” Edelgard can’t imagine saying anything other than yes, especially not when Dorothea’s voice is radiating with such  _ command. _ She tugs Edelgard in by the collar of her jacket, biting her lip hard enough to taste blood, and pushes her through the doorway of their bedroom. Edelgard stops thinking so much, after that.

* * *

When Ingrid wakes up, she feels sore, if only for the release of tension that she’d been holding in for months. It’s not a bad feeling though, despite the fact that it’s nearly sundown, now. She’s not quite all the way under, but it’s enough to put her at ease. She sits up, looking around to see a fresh pair of clothes has been brought for her. She slips them on, and takes a moment to comb her fingers through her hair, picking apart knots that formed while she slept. When Ingrid is satisfied she doesn’t look like a walking Demonic Beast, she, out of curiosity, tries the door to her room, to find it unlocked. She pushes it open, stepping through and out into the hallway. The guards posted outside of her room acknowledge her with a nod, but don’t stop her, so she picks a direction and starts walking. 

The halls are lined with paintings, depictions of nobles and emperors long passed. Once, she finds a portrait of Dorothea and Edelgard, and snickers a little at how stuffy and formal they look. Dorothea is dressed in a high-necked, frilly dress set with an emerald brooch that matches her eyes. A simple circlet of silver rests above her brows, set with a white diamond. Edelgard is dressed in the full emperor get-up, complete with those thick red gloves, and the horned crown that she wore during the war. Neither of them are smiling, but it looks as though Dorothea is holding a grin back, her lips just barely upturned. 

Ingrid runs her fingers along the edges of the portrait, and catches herself wondering if she might be allowed to be painted with Dorothea one day. The thought makes her smile, and she continues down the hallway. It’s lined with windows, and shimmering orange-yellow light drifts in through the glass from the setting sun. She looks outside and sees a beautiful garden. Fields roll on, lined with hedges and flower bushes, trimmed neatly to look clean and orderly. Some hedges are shaped, formed into the twin-headed Adrestian Eagle, the Faerghus gryphon knight, the Leicester crescent moon. There are nods to each country everywhere, and even an elaborate flower bed, neatly shaped into the fabled Crest of Flames. 

Ingrid continues down the hallway, and finds herself stepping through the entrance to the gardens. She walks along the paths, letting her eyes draw in the vibrant colors of nurtured plants, gorgeous, healthy flowers, and even an orchard of trees, set atop a hill. There’s a gazebo between them, and it’s there that Ingrid finds her feet taking her. She steps into it, and finds that it looks recently constructed. The wood still hasn’t lost its bright color, though some of it has been neatly painted. She leans over the railing, watching the sun threaten to dip below the horizon.

She’s not sure how long she stays there, feeling the spring breeze and letting the fading sun warm her, when she hears the steady click of footsteps on the stone pathways. Ingrid turns, and sees Edelgard, dressed in riding clothes, her hair braided as it was yesterday. She’s actually not wearing a crown at all, this time, though she looks no less regal for it. She smiles at Ingrid, and joins her in the gazebo.

“It’s extraordinarily beautiful, isn’t it?” Edelgard speaks. Ingrid shrugs, but doesn’t move as Edelgard takes a spot next to her. “My father used to take me on walks through this garden when I was young. He’d show me the flowers, and teach me what they meant, and he and I would watch my older siblings play in the fields. Back then, I was more prone to study than train, and I loved to sit here, on this hill, and read beneath the sun.” Her voice was… If Ingrid had to choose a word, it would be lonely. 

“I didn’t know you had siblings.” Ingrid says. She’s not really sure what prompts her to say it. Edelgard regards her with a smile and a nod.

“I had ten of them, once. My older brothers were William, Darius, George, Lyon, and Erik. William was too clever for his own good, always teasing Darius and George, who would fight over who was the better swordsman. Lyon loved history and stories, and would read them to me and my younger siblings, Alex and Phila, before we slept. Erik was the resident troublemaker, always climbing trees and falling out of them, stealing things from the kitchens, getting into things he shouldn’t have. My oldest sister, Minerva, she’d drag him by his ear to our father every time she found him with his nose in some mischief.” She giggles at the memory. “Lisa was studying to be a priestess, and healed up dozens of cuts and scrapes that we’d get when we’d play. And Portia loved to garden. I saw her in these gardens more times than I can count.” Edelgard pauses, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve. “I miss them. But when I come here, and I look at the trees I planted for them, and think that they can rest, now, that nobody will ever have to go through what we did ever again, it makes me feel…” She breathes, looking for the right word. “I feel like they’d be proud of me. For not giving up on myself.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Ingrid says. She feels sorry for Edelgard, but isn’t really sure how to say it, or how to feel about it. Having sympathy for Dimitri’s murderer felt… bad. Edelgard turns to look at her. Her lavender eyes search Ingrid’s face, and she looks away, almost shamefully.

“I want you to understand, Ingrid. I didn’t want to hurt Dimitri. I know how he felt. The memory of my siblings suffering before my eyes haunted me every day, and even now, I can’t escape it.” She closes her eyes. “I cried for him, you know. When he fell at Tailtean Plains, I cried then and there.” Edelgard’s hands grip the edge of the gazebo. “I’ve hurt so many people I didn’t want to hurt because they wouldn’t _listen_ to me. Did Dimitri ever listen to you, those days? Did Dimitri listen to his better judgement when Rhea set Fhirdiad ablaze?” Edelgard shakes her head. “I _had_ to. You have to understand that I _had_ to, because I’d had enough of injustice beneath an outdated noble system and fucked-up want for crests. And nobody listened to me. They could have, but they were too stuck in their _faith,”_ She spits the word like venom. “In a giant fucking immortal lizard to consider the fact that she’d brainwashed them and used her mother’s name to justify senseless murder.” Edelgard takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to hear this from me, of all people. But I’m sorry that you lost your friend like that. I really, really am.” Edelgard stands to leave, and Ingrid follows her. She’s not sure why she does, but she follows Edelgard.

“It’s… I’m still processing it, honestly.” Ingrid says. “I was a knight in service to him. I loved him like a brother. But then, we were losing, and he wouldn’t give in against overwhelming odds, and I…” She breathes, feeling her throat tighten. “I ran. I abandoned him, and I hate myself for it. I wish… I wish I had tried harder to save him, to serve him.” Her eyes break with tears, and she scowls at the feeling. She hates crying. It makes her feel weak. 

Edelgard stops walking, and turns to Ingrid, sorrow in her eyes. She raises her hands, gloved in white silk, and she gently brushes away the tears that slip down her cheeks. It sets her nerves off, being cared for by someone so obviously dominant as Edelgard. Her breathing slows before long, and the tension in her shoulders drops a little bit more with every tear that she wipes away.

“You’re okay. You’re safe here.” Edelgard murmurs. Ingrid catches her gaze, her lower lip trembling, and there’s something in it that makes her heart do a flip. The words calm her down enough that the tears stop falling, and Edelgard wipes the last of them onto her thumb delicately, before retracting her hand. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable, just now. I just wanted to help you feel a bit more at ease.” 

Ingrid shakes her head. “It’s okay.” She pauses, and the pair continue walking, together, in the fading light of the setting sun. “Thank you.” Ingrid says. She really is grateful. Edelgard smiles at her, and nods her head, and Ingrid ignores the way it heats her cheeks. 

They walk for some time, before Edelgard comes to a stop at a pair of flowerbeds. The flowers planted there are the same kind, their petals like frills bunched together neatly until they began to bloom outwards. One is a dark, deep red, like Edelgard’s preferred garb, and one is a lighter red, closer to a pink. Edelgard plucks the pink one, holding it up to Ingrid’s nose. It’s fragrant, a poignant and sweet scent that fills Ingrid’s lungs. 

“Are you familiar with flowers, and their meanings?” Ingrid shakes her head, catching a glimpse of her own hair with the motion.

“I’ve never been very fond of flowers, really. Didn’t have time for them, when I was training so hard to be a knight.” Edelgard hums, nodding.

“I see. These are carnations. They’re my favorite kind of flower. They come in all sorts of colors, but this particular one…” Edelgard reaches up, tucking the stem of the flower behind Ingrid’s ear. The soft petals tickle her skin. “It represents admiration.” Edelgard smiles, and turns on her heel, headed back towards the palace. She peeks back, when she doesn’t hear Ingrid follow her. “Come along, now. Dinner will be soon, and I’m sure you’d like Dorothea to feed you again.” Ingrid flushes the same pink as the flower behind her ear, and glares at Edelgard, though there’s no real malice behind it. She jogs, catching up with the Emperor of Fodlan and following her inside.

Maybe… Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

* * *

Dorothea is sitting at the dinner table, waiting for her lovely wife, when she sees her walk into the room with Ingrid. Ingrid has a pink carnation in her hair, and both of them are smiling. Dorothea raises an eyebrow.

“Am I hallucinating, darling, or did you and Ingrid manage to enjoy yourselves?” Edelgard rolls her eyes, and Ingrid’s mouth flaps open and closed like a fish gasping for air, before settling into a scowl. Edelgard flags down a servant.

“Fetch a pillow for Ingrid, please. Set it next to Dorothea.” She turns back to Dorothea, seating herself at the end of the table, beside her wife. “We simply talked and admired the scenery. That’s all.”

"Hold on, I don't get to sit at the table?" Dorothea turns to her, pouting a little. Somebody didn't quite know their place.

"Ingrid, come here." Dorothea stands, letting domination fill her voice. Ingrid's hands clench and unclench, and she stands there, still for just a moment, before she walks over to Dorothea. Dorothea takes her by the chin, gazing down at her jade-colored eyes.

"You should know by now just where you belong, dear Ingrid." Her voice drips with intention, and her words are like a weapon held at Ingrid's throat. Ingrid shakes like a leaf in her grasp, and she absentmindedly crosses her wrists at the small of her back. The sight has Dorothea’s head buzzing pleasantly.

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand why I should be-"

"On your  _ knees. _ " Dorothea cuts her off, and Ingrid drops to the floor like lightning, along with about half of the guards and servants in the room. Dorothea's hand still clutches her chin, and she presses her thumb against Ingrid's lips. Ingrid willingly opens her mouth with a whimper, and Dorothea rests the digit on her tongue to keep her from speaking.

"Ingrid, you have submitted to me. I will feed you, I will take care of you, I will give you just what you need, but you will obey me. You will  _ behave _ , or you will learn just what it means to be punished. Understand?" Ingrid nods her head, and the sight makes Dorothea's chest clench. She's so pretty like this, on her knees, mouth open for her. Dorothea licks her lips, removing the hand from her mouth and sitting down. "You will be on voice restrictions for now. You don't speak unless Edelgard or I ask you a question. Got it?"

"Yes."

"Yes,  _ what _ ?"

"Yes, your majesty."

"Good girl." Dorothea purrs, letting her hand rest on the back of Ingrid's neck. The servant returns with a pillow for Ingrid to kneel on, and lets Ingrid move so she can adjust to be comfortable.

The table and chairs are low enough for everyone to be comfortable, regardless of whether they are kneeling or sitting. This particular table is on the smaller side, circular, and has been set for the Emperor and the Empress, her Prime Minister, with her Minister of the Imperial Household next to him, as well as an additional submissive space on the opposing side. The doors to the dining room open, and in walk Ferdinand, Hubert, and Bernadetta. Ferdinand is speaking at his usual volume, deep in a rant, Hubert is looking mildly perturbed, as usual, and Bernadetta is watching Ferdinand talk with a small, meek smile. 

“All I am saying is that this is particularly foolish of the man. It is direct law that these policies must pass through Her Majesty’s office, and he has made repeat offenses! This is without question, grounds for impeachment.” Ferdinand takes his seat, scoffing a little. “Were I more of your inclinations, Hubert, I would have simply forced the man from his seat before the war started and been done with it.” Hubert kneels on Ferdinand’s right, and Bernadetta kneels on his left, though she looks embarrassed about it. Hubert gives a light chuckle.

“I would have done so, but Her Majesty thought it best to find a way to out him publicly, so that there is minimal unrest at the leadership changes. He has given us a chance to do so now, and it will be over with soon.”

Dorothea leans forward over the table, smiling at the trio. Her hand skates along Ingrid’s neck, and she feels her shudder beneath the touch. 

“Good evening, you three. We’ve nearly got the whole Strike Team here. Bernadetta, you’re looking well. How are things in Varley?” Bernadetta beams at her, and the sight melts Dorothea’s heart a little bit. She really was quite cute. 

“Thank you! They’re, um, challenging. But Ferdinand and Hubert have been helping out where they can, and it… helps.” Ferdinand combs his hand through her hair, and she preens under the attention a little. It brings a smile to Dorothea’s face. The food is brought out, then, platters full of warm, delicious food, and even Dorothea’s mouth waters a little. She takes a large plate full of smoked meat, some steamed vegetables, and a couple bread rolls. She neatly slices off a portion of the meat, taking a bite of it for herself and sighing at the salty with just a hint of spicy taste. Dorothea cuts off another potion, lifting the fork to Ingrid’s lips. She keeps a hand in her hair, an unspoken command to behave, and Ingrid is nothing but compliant. She eats up whatever Dorothea offers her, and when Dorothea murmurs quiet praise, she eats that up, too.

“My, Dorothea. It certainly didn’t take you long to have her settled for you.” Ferdinand speaks up, in the midst of placing a piece of carrot into Hubert’s mouth, who seems to be fighting it. Ferdinand tugs at his hair roughly, and he complies with a light flush. Dorothea giggles a little.

“Oh, Ferdie, you ought to know that she can be difficult at times. I still haven’t put her all the way under yet.” Ferdinand raises an eyebrow, and Dorothea waves it off. “She needs to  _ earn _ it, first. I can’t have my Ingrid thinking I’m easy, now can I?” Dorothea runs a finger along Ingrid’s jaw, and hears her whimper quietly. Ferdinand shakes his head in that haughty, endearing way that he always does.

“Not at all. I was just surprised to find that you’ve got her eating from your hand already. I would have thought… well. I suppose it doesn’t take a genius to see exactly how dominant you can be, but if that were the only factor, she’d be eating from Edelgard’s hand, too.” 

“Oh, that will come in due time. You know our Edie, she loves a challenge.” She glances at her wife, who is currently narrowing her eyes at her. Dorothea sticks her tongue out. “But there needs to be a little trust there, first. We’re working on it.” 

  
  
  


The conversation dwindles, then, dimming to small talk and shared jokes. When the night grows long, Edelgard and Dorothea excuse themselves, and Dorothea beckons Ingrid to follow them.

Ingrid rises to her feet, and follows a few steps behind Edelgard and Dorothea, hands still crossed at her back. Her head feels pleasantly foggy, due to Dorothea’s care for her at dinner, and the inherent pleasure of having obeyed her dominant. The royal bedroom is an elegant mix of Dorothea and Edelgard’s preferences. A bouquet of crimson carnations sits on the windowsill, healthy and well-tended to. There’s a simple desk tucked into one corner, piled high with various books and maps and stacks of letters. There’s a fireplace, which isn’t lit due to the season, and above it hangs another painting of Dorothea and Edelgard. 

It’s more candid, a quaint depiction of them dancing at what must have been their wedding. Edelgard is wearing a deep maroon doublet, with an elegantly woven Hresvelg family crest woven into it. She’s wearing the official Adrestian crown, and gently leans her forehead against Dorothea’s. Dorothea wears a beautiful, elaborate and immaculate, and the white veil in her hair makes her look like an angel, head alight with a halo. Dorothea and Edelgard’s hands are clasped together, matching rings sparkling on their left hands. It’s… breathtaking, and the sight of it makes Ingrid’s heart clench.

The bed is big, probably enough to fit four people on it comfortably, and is neatly done with black sheets, which must be a bit of a pain to clean, but she supposes that isn’t really her problem to deal with. Dorothea walks to the wardrobe, which is large enough that it fits both Dorothea’s and Edelgard’s clothes in it, and Dorothea starts stripping. Ingrid’s face flushes, and she takes a breath to speak up, before remembering she isn’t allowed to speak. She settles for just looking away, busying herself with glancing over the titles of the numerous books set on the shelf next to Edelgard’s desk. 

After a few minutes, she hears Dorothea giggling, and then feels soft, strong hands turn her head. Dorothea’s wearing a sheer nightgown, enough to keep out whatever nighttime chill might slip in while the sun is gone, but little else. Ingrid swallows to find her throat dry as her gaze travels up her body. Dorothea’s nipples are outlined beneath the fabric, and the gown is cut low enough to give an ample view of the top of her breasts, full and creamy. 

Dorothea’s hand slips from her cheek to the back of her neck, and then she’s kissing her, rough and firm. Ingrid catches a groan in her throat. She’s still on voice restrictions. Dorothea’s tongue swipes across her bottom lip, and Ingrid opens her mouth embarrassingly fast. Her tongue is clever and quick, teasingly dragging against Ingrid’s own before retreating so Dorothea can nip at her lower lip, before pulling away. Ingrid feels that her face is flushed, and hot, and she wants so badly to ask to touch Dorothea, but she can’t, she  _ can’t _ , she has to be good for Dorothea. Oh. The realization hits her like a punch to her gut, how her body is alight with pleasure and want, and… and she likes it. She likes this, the idea of being Dorothea’s. 

“Ingrid, sweetheart. Strip.” The command breaks Ingrid out of her thoughts, and her hands shake as she undoes the buttons of her tunic. She does as she’s told, tossing her tunic aside and removing her trousers. With a look from Dorothea, she removes her smallclothes, too, her face flushed from arousal and embarrassment. Dorothea steps forward, putting a hand on her shoulder and pushing down. Ingrid drops to her knees, head bowed, and Dorothea runs a hand along her jaw, tilting her chin up with two fingers. 

“You were very good for me at dinner. I think you deserve a reward.” Dorothea purrs. She walks to one of the bedside dressers, opening the drawer and pulling out a collar and a lead. They’re simple, black and made from leather, and Dorothea returns to Ingrid, taking a seat on the bed.

“Would you be okay with wearing these, sweetheart? That’s a question. You can answer with your voice for me.” Ingrid clears her throat, which is still dry, and her voice is hoarse when she speaks.

“Y-yeah. I want to- wear them. Please.” Dorothea smiles, her eyes narrowing, and she slips the collar on Ingrid, buckling it behind her neck. She pulls on the leash, and Ingrid tumbles forward, landing between Dorothea’s knees. She hears Edelgard chuckle from somewhere, but she really doesn’t care right now, because it’s then that Ingrid realizes that Dorothea isn’t wearing any underwear.

“I know you just ate, but how about dessert, hm?” Dorothea spreads, and Ingrid nearly comes there on the floor. She scoots forward a little more, gazing up at Dorothea, asking for permission. Dorothea ruffles her hair. “Such a good girl. Go on, you can touch me.” Ingrid groans a little, pressing kisses to the insides of Dorothea’s thighs. Dorothea sighs pleasantly when Ingrid lightly bites at her soft skin, and tugs on Ingrid’s leash, pulling her towards her sex. The unspoken command comes through clear, and Ingrid sticks her tongue out, doing gentle circles around Dorothea’s clit. Her breath hitches, and she tugs harder, egging Ingrid on. She plunges her tongue beneath her folds, lapping and pressing and curling her tongue like she’s a starving animal, and Dorothea  _ sings _ for her. 

“Fuck, that’s good. Just like that, my Ingrid.” Dorothea sighs, her voice heady and light with pleasure. Ingrid eats her out with vigor, ignoring the ache between her own legs. Dorothea’s thighs tremble as Ingrid sucks on her clit, and rakes her hand through Ingrid’s hair, pulling at her scalp. She drags her tongue across the sensitive flesh with broad, slow licks, loving the way that Dorothea shakes above her. Ingrid feels Dorothea’s ankles cross behind her shoulders, holding her there. She can’t really breathe, but it’s good, and she keeps fucking Dorothea with her tongue.

Ingrid knows Dorothea is close when she starts raking her nails across Ingrid’s shoulders, just hard enough to break skin. The sensation sends sparks flitting across her skin, and it pushes her on and on until Dorothea whines and grinds her hips down, hard. The lack of oxygen makes Ingrid’s head fuzzy. She only gets to breathe when Dorothea’s thighs relax, and Ingrid has the space to tilt her head up to free her nose. Dorothea looks down at her almost lovingly, and she takes a cloth, cleaning the slick and spit and sweat from Ingrid’s cheeks and chin. Her hands are soft, and sweet, and it almost makes Ingrid forget about her own arousal. 

All of a sudden, Dorothea tugs Ingrid by her lead, barking a simple command. “Up.” Ingrid climbs onto the bed, and Dorothea pets her, hands gently skating across her skin as she stands up. She hums, rummaging through her drawers some more, and when Ingrid attempts to turn to look at what she’s doing, Dorothea snaps her fingers and shakes her head, and Ingrid turns back around. 

She hears the pop of a cork, and Ingrid can’t help it, she looks.

Cloth straps clutch at her round hips, the dark-colored fabric contrasting against her fair skin. Her hands drag along a polished cylinder of some material Ingrid isn’t familiar with. A thick, clear liquid- oil, maybe, drips from Dorothea’s fingers as she smears it across the phallic-shaped object at her crotch.

“Ingrid, darling. You really oughtn’t have turned around.”

Oh, no. Ingrid has the feeling she's going to have a very long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one got. a little more horny than i was expecting it to be. oops.
> 
> i hope you enjoyed!!!! kudos and comments are always appreciated, and thank you for reading <3


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